Troy and Ryan, 1891
by Merely Corroborative Detail
Summary: A Gilded era; an arranged marriage; a snooty count, an overly curious lady, and a hysterical sister... And at the centre of it all, the forbidden love between a rich heir and a servant boy. Tryan period romance in the magical "Gay Nineties"; SLASH alert.
1. A Dance to Remember

**Chapter I: A Dance to Remember**

This story takes place a long time ago. It takes place in the time before cars and television and airplanes. Back when people still got around with horse-drawn carriages and steam engine trains. Back when you could buy candy for a penny, and it was a lot sweeter than anything you'll eat today, and when art was actually expected to look good. In that time, high schools were usually boarding schools, and musicals were called operettas.

But nonetheless, this High School Musical fic takes place in that blessed time: the 1890s... also know as "the Gay Nineties."

Specifically, we'll start our tale in New York, at a party around the beginning of summer: there, most, if not all of the city's good society was invited; it was a "goodbye party" of sorts, signalling the end of the social season, after which everyone would go off to their summer houses to have a great time and, more importantly, to show off how much money they had.

And of course, if all of New York's good society was invited you could count that the Evans twins, heirs to the Evans family fortune and owners of the Evans and Evans Theatre Company were there; their parents would have been there, but they had been feeling a slight indisposition that night.

The dinner had been excellent: the glasses were full of expensive champagne, and now all o the party was off to the ball room. It was a very pretty ballroom, with lots of marble colonnades, and even a few nice winter paintings. In a corner, Ryan was standing alone but very observant. It wasn't that he was antisocial: he loved dances, and was a very good dancer himself; but right now, he had far more important things to do.

For any minute now, the music would start. And his sister, Sharpay, was going to dance with none other than the Earl of Mountararat, who had just asked her onto the dance floor. He was a very, very, very rich British nobleman that had come to visit New York that year, and obviously, if the Evans family managed to marry a daughter off to the Earl it would be in everyone's best interests.

Not to mention, he was an all around nice, if extremely snooty guy.

And, for the moment, Ryan saw everything was going very well: the pair was together, talking, with Sharpay looking here very best, and any moment now the music would start.

And sure enough, the music started, and they paired up.

Then, all the couples began to dance; and it was like one of those old paintings you see sometimes and think are too pretty to be realistic. The men, all in their gallant top hats and tailcoats, led the ¾ pace of the waltz, while the dames followed gracefully, their jewellery sparkling in the –then newfangled- electric light and their colourful gowns flowing gracefully over the black and white marble floor; and it was all perfectly magical.

Ryan was just about to pick out a girl from the crowd –really anyone, most of them liked him very much- when he saw someone in the room who immediately took his gaze off all of his very aristocratic entourage; and indeed, of all girls.

He didn't know the person; nor was he expected to, but at that point, he really wished he'd met him: it was one of the menservants: a youth about his age and height, with hair somewhere between blonde and brown, and a sweet tan. He seemed quite well built too, but it was very hard to his clothes –the standard shirt-and-waistcoat, black and white uniform-. And his face… oh, his face! It carried a charming boyish smile of manliness mingled with untainted innocent that was enough to make any heart throb.

Ryan couldn't take his eyes off of him; it was very distressing! If this were a cliché romance, and they hadn't both been male… he would've though he was in love.

Thankfully, someone interrupted his musings, and he lost the boy from sight.

"Mr. Evans," said a young lady in a pretty red dress "Aren't you going to dance?"

"Huh?" said Ryan, snapping out of his thoughts "Who? Me? Eh… I… well… that is to say… how about you?"

"Oh, I would be dancing," said the young lady "But you see, my fiancé is terribly late for some reason."

Here, Ryan snapped out of the little trance, and picked up his suave socialite demeanour again:

"Well then," he said pleasantly "I suppose it would be very rude of me to let you get bored while waiting for him, wouldn't it?"

"Oh my," said she.

And she blushed, and they went onto the ballroom and began to dance. But Ryan got tired very fast, and so as soon as the red dress girl's fiancé was there, he decided to discretely go out into the garden and get some air; remember, this is back when houses on Manhattan still had gardens, and the whole place wasn't covered in smog and concrete. Unfortunately, they didn't have air conditioners either, so it got quite hot.

As Ryan stepped out into the garden, he felt a cool breeze blow across his face, wiping away all the stuffy heat from the dance inside; it wasn't a bad dance, but holding any kind of event inside at this time of year, and with the clothes they wore back then, was really borderline.

But here it was different. Here, among the neatly planted rows of trees, everything was refreshing and calm, the air imbued with that sweet, calm, watery smell of a tamed nature: the only company was that of the plants; the only sound was that of the leaves rustling and one's own steps on the humid grass; and the only light was that of the stars and the silvery moon. It was the kind of night, the kind of dark that wasn't ominous and threatening, but rather a pleasant respite from the day and the light's toils.

_"Huh," _thought Ryan, breathing in the air around him _"I should really do this more often…"_

But suddenly, he saw that, despite the immediately preceding lyric description he was, in point of fact, not alone. Yet the person he saw there didn't annul but rather increased the beauty of the night.

Ryan's heart bounced a bit.

_"By Jove!" _he thought _"It's that servant from inside!"_

And just as he was noticing the servant, the servant noticed him; then, a lot of things were said very fast time:

"Oh my God, sir, I'm so sorry, it's not what it looks like…"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"I was just…"

"I only wanted to…"

"Please don't tell my bosses…"

"Please don't tell your masters…"

Then, there was a brief silence; you could here a cricket chirping, and the two young men looked each other in the eyes. Yes, Ryan thought, this was the youth he'd had his eyes pinned on during the dance; but now, in the dark, outside, loosened up and not standing attendance, he looked so much… so much… so much _prettier._

But a smile of boyish cunning then began to paint itself on the servant boy's face;

"I won't tell anyone if you won't tell anyone…" he said.

And then he burst into laughter. Ryan was at first quite shocked that a servant boy would take such liberties in front of him; but the other's boy nonchalant attitude was just so overwhelming that, despite himself, he let out a small chuckle, while still trying to pretend he was not amused. The other boy didn't seem to care all that much.

Indeed, when he was finally done laughing, he extended a friendly hand for him to shake; and he spoke.

"Troy," he said charmingly "the name's Troy Bolton."

Ryan didn't know what to do; he really never had been addressed this way by someone who should clearly _not_ have been addressing him this way; but he was just so darn cute; so hesitantly clasped his hand:

"Ryan Evans, pleased to make your acquaintance," said Ryan almost automatically.

But he was well nigh interrupted by the very, very hearty handshake of this Troy Bolton.

"So," said Troy, sympathetically "You couldn't stand the party either, could you Mr. Evans?"

At least he was still addressing him as mister…

"What?" Ryan started to answer "No, it's not that… I was just… uh… tired... and I came out here to get some air… "

Why was he justifying himself to a servant boy?

"Tired?" said Troy "Yeah, right… we're all tired. I mean, sure, I can be tired, this is actually my job… but when people like you who are supposed to be having fun are "tired", you know there's something wrong with the way people party."

"No!" said Ryan "No, really, it's a very entertaining party! I'm terribly sorry if I gave a wrong impression, but just really needed some air."

Why was he apologising to a servant boy?

"Whatever floats your boat," said Troy, "At least you're not risking getting fired over this. But seriously… what do you rich people do at these meetings? I mean I'm actually glad I'm a servant; if I didn't have to wait on you people, I'd stand around all night looking at my feet!"

"Well…" said Ryan, "You could dance…"

Why couldn't he stop talking to the servant boy?

"Dance!" exclaimed Troy, turning around in a most charming manner "Pff… yeah, right! I couldn't put one foot in front of another I my life depended on it."

"Oh, come now!" said Ryan, beginning to loosen up "The steps are quite simple!"

"Simple? Yeah, right!"

"No, seriously… I can prove it to you. I could teach you them right here!"

"What?"

"Look... This is a waltz: one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two three!"

And at this, Ryan in fact started dancing alone in the garden. Troy laughed a bit:

"_That's _a waltz?" he asked.

"Well," said Ryan "It's a lot more impressive with two people. Not to mention there's the Viennese Waltz, but that's another story…"

"No, no, we'll stick to the simple one!" said Troy, "But please: then teach me…"

"What?" Ryan exclaimed.

"Teach me!" said Troy, almost ordering, though without ever taking that boyish smile off his face "I'm sure I can do _that, _and you said you could teach me to waltz… so teach me."

"Oh my…" said Ryan hesitantly "Well… okay… Come closer."

In sum, why was he doing any of this?

And Troy walked towards him; _"Oh my God," _was Ryan's first thought _"I'd never noticed he had such a pretty face…" _And indeed, it was one thing to contemplate Troy from far away: but seeing those blue eyes up close, that cinnamon tan, that perpetual boyish grin almost made our little Mister Evans faint.

Ryan put his arms right over Troy's ribs without touching him, simulating the position they might start from if they were about to dance a waltz. Troy put his hands in the air:

"Do I have to do it too?"

"Yes," said Ryan, and Troy obeyed, though again without actually touching Ryan.

Ryan didn't know what was going on. He was getting more and more comfortable, but he was still far from loosening up; he was sympathetic, yes, and he agreed, and he made friends, but all automatically, as if he were a puppet and someone was pulling his "nice" string. He was sweet and outgoing, but at the same time tight as hell. It was very distressing; it felt something like the first time you go on a rendezvous with someone you're trying to start out a relationship with.

"Okay," said Troy "Now what?"

"Now," said Ryan, bringing his left hand up to about the level of his shoulder "Put your right hand up here."

"Like this?" said Troy, putting his right hand with his palm facing Ryan's.

"Y… yes," he said "Yes, just like that."

"And now what?"

"Now… wait a second," said Ryan "What was it… oh, right: one, two, three, one, two, three… Okay! So, you're the lead. This has three beats; don't listen to the music from inside, it'll only distract you. Now, on one, bring your left foot forward… one."

Ryan had ton concentrate a bit, so as to picture what the dame would do; obviously, he was used to dancing lead. After some consideration, he brought his right foot –which was on Troy's left- back; Troy looked at their feet, and clumsily followed Ryan's:

"Like that?"

"Precisely," said Ryan "Now, on beat two, you bring your right foot forward and to the right?"

"What?"

"Just follow where mine goes…"

"Okay…"

And Ryan brought his left foot –which was opposite of Troy's right foot- back and to his left –Troy's right-. Troy tried to calculate how exactly he was supposed to move without looking at his feet, but it didn't work, so he just followed Ryan again.

"Good," said Ryan "And now, just bring your left foot close up to your right foot. Like this."

And he slid his two feet close together, without moving one of them. Troy began to slide his right foot up to his left foot.

"No, not that to left foot… the other left foot."

"Oh… he, he… alright," said Troy, repeating the movement, this time effectively.

"Bravo!" said Ryan "Bravo, that's exactly it!"

"That's it?" said Troy "Okay, that was easy. I mean, I couldn't repeat it right now if you ordered me to, but that was pretty easy. What next?"

"Repeat it with the other foot."

"Aw, dang!"

And they went on. As you may suspect, Troy's waltzing lessons weren't immediately successful. Yet, slowly but surely, though without touching Ryan just yet, he began to learn. And, even if it was without ever taking his eyes off his own feet, Troy started to dance to the ¾ beat of the music from inside the room.

"That's good…" said Ryan, as they picked up the pace "That's really good, that's exactly how it's done."

"Really?" said Troy "Cool!"

"One, two, three, one, two, three… Perfect!"

"Hehe… this isn't so bad after all… Hey look… no eyes!"

And at this, Troy attempted to look up at Ryan and continue the dance; and after about two steps, he lost the beat and he had to look back downwards."

"Wow," said Troy "I really suck at this…"

"Well," said Ryan, "You're not exactly my best student."

"Gee, thanks a lot Mr. Evans," said Troy laughing "But I won't give up!"

"Of course, I have to tell you that the music playing inside is actually a Mazurka…"

"What's a Mazurka?"

"That's… uh… You'll learn that next class…"

"Fair enough to me!" said Troy "Hey, look… No eyes again! And this time I can really do it!"  
And with a little grin, he looked Ryan in the eyes while he kept on dancing. Now the orchestra was back to the waltzes, though. And they danced; there, in the moonlight, under the trees, our two boys danced and danced and danced, one's shirt and waistcoat looking just as good as the other's full evening tailcoat. They danced like any of the couples in the room, save perhaps that they still kept the pretention of not touching each other, only alone, and for that more blissful, and, not even suspecting there was anything wrong with what they were doing save the fact that they were absent from the party.

Ryan snapped out of it a tad when he almost lost a beat, and he started realising just how hard it was to play the dame so quickly. And, as he was musing about this, completely unwittingly, he let his hand set itself on Troy's side, and he let his palm touch Troy's. For a moment, he didn't notice; but when he did, when he felt Troy's palm against his own and his other palm against Troy's side, when he felt the heat of the other boy's body sending sparks down his own spine, immediately Ryan pulled his hands away –though without ever stopping the dance, he was a professional- and started blurting out an apology:

"Oh my, Troy… Mr. Bolton, I'm so sorry, I didn't…"

But Troy interrupted him; and he spoke to Ryan in a voice still sympathetic and boyish, but with a taint strength and seriousness, which the blonde didn't recognise:

"Don't worry," he said imposingly "It's better that way."

And he grabbed Ryan's hand, and wrapped his other arm around Ryan's waist.

Now they were dancing like a real couple.

Yet all of a sudden, Troy and Ryan heard a door opening; and as they pulled apart hastily, breaking up their dream dance, artificial light from inside the house fell upon them, and a female voice exclaimed:

"Mr. Evans! There you are!"


	2. Of Joyous Clarifications

**Chapter II: Of Joyous Clarifications and Unpleasant Vacations**

"Mr. Evans," repeated the voice of the person who'd just opened the door.

Upon hearing it, Ryan and Troy immediately fell from dreamland into the real world; they instinctively parted as far as possible, as if just then realising the compromising allure of their position.

"Miss Darbus!" said Ryan, immediately recognizing woman that had seen them "I'm terribly sorry… I… we... we were just in need of some fresh air."

"Oh," said Miss Darbus, a fellow socialite, putting on her glasses, as if she hadn't noticed anything "No matter, no matter… Your sister was looking for you, Mr. Evans, and I think the butler was searching for one of the servants which might be that young man with you. Of course, its not very important now, because we're moving the party out to the garden, but I thought you should know."

Ryan's heart was beating like a thousand hells; but apart from stressed, he was also very perplexed. It _seemed _like Miss Darbus hadn't seen anything scandalous; but then again, you could never know with women these days.

Then, Troy, of all people, interrupted; and frankly, he made a save that impressed even Ryan, who was a professional at this.

"Then, I guess I should put these away, shouldn't I?" said he.

And Ryan (and Miss Darbus) saw that he had a packet of cigarettes in his hand

"Unless you want some, madam," continued Troy, with an ever so slight tongue-in-cheek expression.

"Certainly not," answered Miss Darbus, obfuscated, and so Troy put away the cigarettes.

"You see, we'd come out here to take a smoke," Troy continued "We didn't want to disturb the people inside, see?"

And just about then, some other guests came out; and each of the two boys started pretending the other didn't exist, and then the butler came and began very angrily scolding Troy, while Ryan started polite conversation with the guests about how beautifully blue the sky was, and inwardly thanked God for Troy's whole cigarette story. It _was _certainly a good excuse.

Next morning –or rather, next afternoon; back then dances traditionally ended at the break of dawn, so obviously you woke up quite late- Sharpay and Ryan began, along with their parents, preparing for their departure to their summerhouse in Maine. Everyone who was someone had a summerhouse in Maine, except for those who had them on Rhodes Island.

Obviously, Ryan was very anxious, and Sharpay was simply in hysterics. When they weren't packing the large, heavy trunks, they were covering the expensive furniture with white sheets to keep the dust off, and when they weren't doing anything related to _that _they were ordering their servants, who _were _doing it, around, so the reader will understand they were very agitated.

With all this packing anxiety, the reader will understand that Ryan didn't have much time to reflect all the events of the night with Troy and what they meant; in point of fact, he couldn't even figure out exactly what he was supposed to think about all this, he didn't have the time. Nonetheless, the thought of it continually gnawed at the back of his head, throwing wood to the fire of general uneasiness caused by the getting-ready-for-vacation frenzy. But then again, how could it not? How could he possibly get that beautiful face out of his mind? And at night… Oh, at night! At night, he would lay awake thinking about the boy, and if he weren't so (emotionally, at least) dim, he might have come to the conclusion that he was in love.

It was one such night, a few days after the party and the night before the departure for the Maine summerhouse, when he lay in his nightclothes on his sculpted cherry-wood bed with light silk sheets, thinking once again about that fateful dance, that Ryan was suddenly surprised by something very small but distinctly hard hitting his head.

_"What the…" _he thought, jolting to his feet.

He looked around; what on earth was this? Then, he saw his large window was open; and he also saw that on the ground there was a tiny little rock; and to top of it all, another little rock flew into the room, and fell onto his bed.

_"Oh my…" _thought Ryan _"Someone's throwing rocks through the window."_

And after coming to that brilliant conclusion, he went to said window: and sure enough, in his garden, lit up by the moonlight, right next to the little fountain, there was a young man throwing rocks at him; and that young man was Troy Bolton.

"Hey! Mr. Evans!" said he upon seeing Ryan "There you are. I would've shouted, but… well, I'd wake up everyone.

Ryan was quite flabbergasted.

"Troy… how did you…"

"I did a lot of asking around," said Troy "And I also woke up some people I didn't really mean to… But it was worth it: Mr. Evans, we really need to talk."`

"Well then…" Ryan tried to continue still quite in shock "I… uh... wait a second, I'm getting dressed and coming downstairs."

"And wake up all your servants?" said Troy, coming close to the wall "Yeah, right! Stay were you are!"

"Troy, what are you…" Ryan began.

"Don't worry, Mr. Evans," said Troy "I've done this before."

And at that, Troy caught onto an old tree that grew next to the balcony –the author believes it was an oak that was in fact older than the house itself, but this hasn't been confirmed- and he began to climb up. Ryan didn't know what to say.

"Troy," he exclaimed "People will see you!"

"Well, they'll hear _you…_"

"Stop it! Stop it, you're too high, you'll fall down and get hurt!"

"You're so cute when you worry…"

Here, Troy was already on top of the tree, and in a jump he was on top of the balcony. Ryan didn't think he could stand much more of this.

"There... See, Mr. Evans?" said Troy, with that perennially rapscallion-like smile of his "No harm done!"

Oh, this was just too much!

Ryan then mustered all his willpower and managed to exclaim a sentence the likes of which, considering the his own rank and that of his interlocutor, he may have been expected to have used from the first moment they met:

"Troy Bolton," he said in the most imposing, and frankly outraged voice he could pull off "I demand an explanation: firstly, why are you waking me up in the middle of the night? Secondly, what business do you have climbing up my windows? And, in a more general sense, I should like to have some idea of what's going on!"

Troy was a bit taken aback.

"Well I…" he said "I... I mean to say… that is…"

"I'm waiting," said Ryan "I'm waiting Mr. Bolton..."–_"See," _he thought to himself _"This is how I should treat servants!"_-.

"I…"

"Yes?"

Then, Troy just let it all out; and once again, he was talking in that serious, almost domineering mode he'd used right before they'd been discovered at the party:

"Okay, Mr. Evans, I'll put it to you straight," he said "We both know what happened at the ball three days ago wasn't just a dance lesson. Guys shouldn't do those things together; guys shouldn't dance… like that; guys shouldn't feel that way about each other. I felt something that night, Mr. Evans, something I'd never felt before… And I know you felt it too."

"Troy, what are you…" said Ryan, instantly regretting his harshness.

"Mr. Evans…" said Troy, the moonlight shining in his passionate eyes "I don't know how you rich people manage your love affairs. But I'm a simple guy, and I like to keep things simple. So tell me: do you love me?" –here he put his hand on Ryan's cheek -"Because, by God Mr. Evans, I love you!"

Ryan didn't know what to do.

"Troy, I…"

"I love you Mr. Evans! I love you!"

Then, Ryan finally ceded; and he put his arms around Troy's neck.

"Troy…" he said, bringing himself closer to the boy "You can stop calling me Mr. Evans now."

"That's good," said Troy, closing onto him "I want my lover to have a first name."

Then, Troy leaned in, and in all his romantic glory, under the light of the bright moon, in utter silence on the balcony of Ryan's house, the pact was sealed: Ryan felt Troy's lips touch his, and the two boys were now lovers.

"Ryan," said Troy "I'd say I'll be with you forever… But it just doesn't seem long enough."

"I love you, Troy," said Ryan.

"I love you too, Ryan," said Troy.

They kissed again:

"You're really getting good at this," said Troy "It really sucks that you're not staying in New York for the summer; I don't know how I'll manage without you... Where are you even going?"

"Bar Harbour, Maine," said Ryan "Everyone important someone goes there for summer vacation; and we _have _to go."

"Why?"

"Because if we don't, everyone will think we're poor!"

"Oh," said Troy "Figures… and are you sure you can't do anything about it?"

"Hm…" said Ryan, thinking a bit, "I guess I can try… Are... are you free for the next month?"

"Sure!" said Troy "My mistress' going to Rhodes Island… and I'm not exactly in the 'trusted servants she can bring along with her' list so..."

Ryan grinned:

"Well then, Mr. Non-trusted Servant," he said slyly "I think I just may have something!"


	3. A Servant Boy Engaged in his Employment

**Chapter III: A Servant Boy Engaged in his Employment**

The next morning over breakfast, Mister and Misses Evans and their daughter Sharpay were already quite excited about their imminent departure for Maine; so were the servants, none of whom were to be brought down to the summer house, and who thus would all be starting their vacations briefly, as all the service needed would be hired by the Evans family on the spot like it had been every summer.

Thus, under these circumstances, the reader will understand that it was no-one was expecting Ryan's declaration when he said:

"Father, mother… You know what we should do this summer? We should bring along some servants to the summerhouse."

The other three people seated at the table instantly looked up from their plates at Ryan, and he even got a weird look from their butler.

"Excuse me?" said Mister Evans "What?"

"You know," said Ryan "I know we get the bare minimum, a maid to clean the house and cook for those few times when we're not home, but wouldn't it be nice if this year we brought an actual, normal, live-in servant with us?"

His family was still quite surprised.

"Why on earth would we do that?" asked his father.

"Your father's right, Ryan," his mother added "First off, there's the issue of the money, and secondly, all of our servants already have plans for the summer, am I right?"

The butler nodded:

"Yes, madam"

"Well," Ryan retorted then, going on with his plan "I think it would be a very good social move to show our friends that we can afford the luxury of more servants at our summerhouse; and as for the money and the person, I've actually found a very convenient bargain with someone."

Mister Evans frowned:

"This sounds awfully suspicious, Ryan."

"Yes," his mother continued "Your father's right. I don't want strange men in our house; even our summerhous"

"No, no," said Ryan "Don't worry… I guarantee you that he can be trusted. He's working in a very good house, you can ask about him; and the money…"

"Ryan," said Mr. Evans bluntly "I'm sorry, but I'm not hiring any servants on such short notice. And that's final."

Ryan was taken aback; he really hadn't expected such an adamant refusal; but then, a maid entered, and with a small curtsey announced:

"Mister Evans, a telegraph from His Excellency the Earl of Mountararat."

Mister Evans' eyes opened wide.

"The Earl?" he said "Bring it here!"

"Yes, Master," said the maid, and she handed him a little piece of paper, before curtseying again, and exiting the room; backwards, obviously.

The telegraph, as read aloud by Mr. Evans, went like this:

_"Dear Mr. Evans_

_After much debate internal, I have decided that it is within my capacities to accept your charming daughter's invitation, on your behalf, to stay in Maine with you this summer. I am very distressed to find myself in the position of accepting it by telegraph, but since I am already in Canada, it would be very hard for me to shout it out to you. If it would not inconvenience you in any way, sort, or manner, I should come visit you within approximately a month at Bay Harbour._

_I should be very pleased to hear from you a soon as possible. The place of my current loging is herein attached,_

_With much affection_

_The Earl of Mountararat,"_

When the father was finished reading, the rest of the family was completely speechless; not the least because the Earl obviously wasn't acquainted with modern telegraphy and had obviously just dictated out a letter, but also because of the extravagant prospects of such information.

"You invited the Earl of Mountararat to Bar Harbour?" said Mr. Evans.

"Well," said Sharpay "Well, I… I thought it…"

"Sharpay, you are a genius!" said Mr. Evans "The Earl is coming to Bar Harbour! Think of it… Think of the possibilities, think of the connections… Who else gets a British Earl in their house?"

"Not to mention," added Misses Evans "That it is not improbable that he be romantically interested in you."

"You really think so, mom?" said Sharpay.

"It doesn't seem at all unlikely," said Mr. Evans.

Then, he turned to Ryan:

"Ryan," he said "Please, get that servant boy you know, and tell him to get himself up to Maine as soon as possible."

Ryan's eyes lit up:

"What?" he said "Really? Oh, father but you said…"

"No matter what I said!" exclaimed Mister Evans "Ill be damned if I have a British Earl in my house suppose I can't afford service! Should we wait for him?"

"I'll arrange for him to meet us there," said Ryan.

"I trust your judgment, my son," said his father "If we hire him starting now, we'll have a trial period to see if he's really worth it. What's his name?"

"Troy Bolton," saidRyan; and to himself he thought: _"God bless the Earl!"_

The Evans' summerhouse, if not very large, was still a very nice piece of property: first row from the beach –and that's something, considering that a very large part of Bar Harbour's coast is rocky-, completely detached, white painted wood in neo-colonial design and with at least two acres of land attached. It was almost nighttime when the Evans family arrived, so they only just had the time to take in that many-months-uninhabited smell, and they only used the kitchen to have food prepared and their respective bedrooms to sleep, so most of the furniture was still covered in cloths and most of the heavy trunks were still closed and left in the living room when they went to bed. The reasoning behind this was, as Mr. Evans put it:

"If we're getting a servant, we might as well have him do something!"

When Ryan went to sleep, it felt very familiar to once again fall back on the slightly harder and slightly smaller mattress of his summer bed with the salty breeze coming in from the Atlantic. Everything was just where he'd left it; even a book he'd forgotten there last year lay in the exact same position on his night table as it had been ten months before.

He fell asleep to the repeated splashing of the waves against the shores of old Bar Harbour, thinking of just how wonderful summer vacation would be with Troy over.

On the next morning, however, the house was very much busier; the first order of business was to interview the new prospective servant. Ryan had been anxiously waiting on the small gravel road leading to the house for a full two hours, when at long last he saw his boy arrived:

"Troy," exclaimed Ryan "Oh, thank goodness! There you are! Finally, how long did it take you?"

"Hey," said Troy, not without a tinge of benign irony " Nice to see you too. I came as fast as I could, I was on the train all night and took the ferry at 7 AM. Good thing I had this nice lady next to me, too… I would've woken up in Montreal, if it hadn't been for her."

Bar Harbour was, in fact, and probably still is on an island.

"Well, you're not in Montreal, Troy, and that's very good" said Ryan hastily "Now, put on your most impressive allure possible, and get into the house. We're hiring you to impress a British nobleman."

"A British nobleman?" exclaimed Troy "You never told me your father was British!"

"He isn't," said Ryan "And neither is he a nobleman. But he hopes to become one's father in law in the near future if all goes well."

"What?"

"Nothing, I'll explain to you later," said Ryan "Now get in. And for God's sake, your bowtie all wrong. Here, let me fix that..."

And he set himself to fix said accessory; but Troy suddenly caught both his hands.

"Hey," he said in his sweet, innocent voice "It's the first time I see you in broad daylight, and I don't even get a kiss?"

Ryan frowned; he tried to look obfuscated, but he couldn't possibly resist those almost doglike eyes:

"Oh, alright!" he conceded "But be quick about it; I don't have time to…"

He was cut off, of course, by a sudden peck on his lips from Troy.

"Hey," said Troy, while he was still close to him "Seriously, thank you so much for doing this for me… And if you want," –here his voice acquired a deeper tone, somewhere between jocular and sensual- "Maybe at night, I can come up to your room and do some… Extra hours."

Ryan pulled away from him:

"Oh, just go into the house!"

"Alright, alright," said Troy, throwing his hands up in the air, and again taking on that childish grin of his "But I'll warn you, you didn't let me touch you two days ago, you don't let me touch you today… This isn't how you keep a man!"

"Will you be so kind as to proceed inside, Mister Bolton?" Ryan snapped.

Troy gave in, went towards the house.

Ryan was very irritated; he did not like at all to be reminded how very much he wanted to do naughty things with Troy.

But then again, he couldn't let his servant boy go in just like that.

"Hey Troy!" he said running up to him "Wait a minute… there's something I need to tell you."

Troy turned around.

"What?" he said.

"Good luck," said Ryan; and he kissed him lightly on the cheek… at which point, Troy paused for a moment, and then grabbed Ryan and passionately kissed him on the mouth.

"Hey!" said Ryan "Not here… people will see us!"

"Have I told you you're cute when you worry?"

"Yes you have!"

They could've fought over this, but they went into the house.

Inside said house, sitting at his desk –or, to be more precise, some desk that happened to be in the house and that nobody ever used because it was, in fact, a summer house- was Mr. Evans, who was sporting the sternest look he could possibly pull off for the occasion; he was even wearing spectacles!

Ryan came in first:

"Father," said he "Mr. Troy Bolton."

And Troy entered:

"Thank you, Ryan," said Mr. Evans coldly "But I don't think domestic personnel need heralds. Nor, for that matter, do they need any company during their interview."

There was a brief pause, as Ryan just sort of stood there.

"It means get out Ryan," Mr. Evans clarified.

"Oh," said Ryan, "Oh, yes… Of course…"

And he humbly retired to watch from the doorway; he would much have liked to have stayed, though.

"Now," said Mr. Evans, turning his cold stare to Troy "You're Troy Bolton."

"Yes, Sir," said Troy, as confidently as he could, trying not to sound cocky.

"Good," said Mr. Evans "Do you plan on keeping that uniform on all summer?"

"Well, Sir, I can wash it and I have another one," said Troy "But if you want I can change it… Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," said Mr. Evans "Nothing at all, I was just checking; we can't afford to be buying uniforms in mid-summer."

"Yes, sir; of course…" said Troy.

"Now," said Mr. Evans "Second question: have you ever been to Maine?"

"Uh…" Troy said "No, Sir, I must admit I haven't."

"That's good," said Mr. Evans "Very good, it means you don't know anyone in the whole state, which will avoid you all temptations to get out of the house, or, God forbid, ask for a day off."

"Yes, Sir" said Troy, "Of course sir."

"And lastly," said Mr. Evans "Can you maintain a silent if not dignified profile and put this house in order?"

"Oh, that I can do, sir!" said Troy confidently.

"Good," said Mr. Evans "Then you're hired. This house was built with servant quarters, so that means you'll have somewhere to stay, and we'll discuss your wages later on."

"Really, sir?" Troy exclaimed, bowing down, and grabbing Mr. Evans' hand to shake "Oh, thank you sir! Thank you so much, sir! Where do I sign?"

"My wife and daughter are off to the notary to get the forms," said Mr. Evans.

"Oh…" said Troy "Excellent… I'd most pleased to meet them."

"No, you should not," said Mr. Evans sternly.

"Oh," said Troy, "Oh, yes, of course…"

Then, there was an awkward silence:

"Well, what are you waiting for?" said Mr. Evans "This house needs to be arranged, dusted, cleaned, and generally be made livable!"

"Oh, yes sir!" said Troy, "Of course, sir!"

And he immediately went off to start taking the cloths off the furniture, and generally "making the house livable", as Mr. Evans said.

But first, as Troy exited the room, Ryan whispered into his ear:

"Good job!"

"Thanks," said Troy "I'm that good, ain't I?"

The first day at the job for Troy was quite agitated, but also very efficient. He put the whole house in order place, even rearranging the furniture at Sharpay and her mother's bequest, went to buy groceries, and generally was as good a servant as a servant could be. The comments from the Evans family over lunch to their son Ryan were in the most positive vein possible, and in the evening, when they were all invited to a soirée at the Carnegie they even left Troy alone at home.

But not before Troy kissed Ryan a nice day out.

On the afternoon of the Evans family's second day of vacation they were, again, invited to someone's house –this time the Vanderbilt family- and to eat lobster and potatoes; really, they were invited out every day, no-one was expected to actually cook. But sly little Ryan claimed he had "a slight cold," and stayed home. And along with his new sexy manservant, they decided that it was a capital day to take a walk along the beaches of the Atlantic.

"Brr!" exclaimed Troy shuddering a bit "Is it always this cold up here?"

"Cold?" said Ryan "What are you talking about: it's midsummer!"

"Well, yeah!" said Troy "Exactly! Down south this is like our winter…"

"Down South?" Ryan said a bit surprised "You're from the South?"

"Yeah, why not?" said Troy "Albuquerque, actually, it's in New Mexico... I've been working on getting rid of the accent since I got here, people don't like it very much for some reason. Glad to see it doesn't show."

"Well, the tan does give away that you're from somewhere sunny," said Ryan "But seriously, I never would've guessed!"

"You know now," said Troy "And knowing is half the battle!"

"Where did you get that?"

"Can't remember," said Troy "I've always wanted to say it, though…"

Ryan chuckled.

"So…" he said "Just what did you do down there?"

"My dad had a farm," said Troy "My grandfather on my mother's side was a lieutenant the Confederate army in Alabama, but they left westward after the Civil War. I was, like, the twelfth brother, so they sent me up here to New York to see if I could make some money."

"Ah," said Ryan "So you grew up on a farm?"

"Yeah," said Troy "What do you thing? You don't get muscles like these just by serving Chardonnay…"

"I guess not," said Ryan.

"You _know _not. Come on, touch it."

"What?"

"Touch and see!" said Troy, playfully taking Ryan's hand and placing it on his belly.

Ryan almost shuddered as he touched Troy's shirt. My God! Those were by far the hardest abdominal muscles he'd ever touched; of course, not that he'd touched a lot, but still, it was impressive.

"You know," said Troy, "I'd usually work without my shirt off… this tan I've got on my face? It's everywhere. I can show you if you like."

"I don't…"

Troy's voice once again became more solemn:

"Don't worry, lover," he said "I want you to see me like that… I want you to see every single part of me; and I want to see ever single part of your cute little body."

He brushed his hand against Ryan's chest, and skillfully undid the top button of his shirt. A cool breeze blew it a bit open, permitting him to see a bit more of that white skin.

"The sun's about to set," said Troy "And minute the sky will probably start turning red. Can I kiss you in the sunset, Or will it be too clichéd?

"Don't worry," said Ryan "I produce melodrama in the 1890s… I live for clichés."

And Troy leaned in on him. But just at that moment, who would be passing by but the gentle but always inopportunely passing by Miss Darbus.

"The servant boy from the summer party!" she exclaimed from quite a dozen feet off, on the street that went next to the beach "Bolton, was it? Fancy you being here!"

The two boys immediately pulled as far apart as they could.

"Miss Darbus!"

"Hey! It's that lady from…"

"Oh, don't mind me," said Miss Darbus "I'm waiting for my fiancé, we're off to the Vanderbilt residence."

Ryan, to be polite, walked up the beach to see her. It would have been quite boorish of him to have a lady walk down on the sand. Troy, tagged along.

"If I may be so polite as to enquire," asked Miss Darbus, "What on earth is Mr. Bolton doing here?"

"Mr. Bolton?" said Ryan "Mr. Bolton… he… oh, he's just working for us this summer."

"Ah?"

"Yes," said Ryan "We…we thought we could use some help, it was getting very tiresome to have to bring in servants from town all the time."

"And so you hired Mr. Bolton?"

Troy interjected:

"Yes," he said "Yes, exactly."

"I see," said Miss Darbus "It's good he found a job, very good. Especially now that he's going to get sacked at his old one…"

"What?"

"What, you didn't know?" said Miss Darbus "It's common knowledge, really… You didn't think the Sangazures would keep him after he'd been caught him out smoking in the backyard during the dance, did you?"

She chuckled. Troy and Ryan were both speechless.

"Well, I must be going now," said Miss Darbus "I see my fiancé Mr. Vanderfeller is coming this way… Goodbye, Mr. Evans, get well soon; and you, Mr. Bolton, I do hope you do better on this job than on your last one."

And Mr. Vanderfeller came by in a cab, and Miss Darbus climbed in, and they drove off to the party.

As for Ryan and Troy, the first was quite occupied reacting at the second having learned through probably one of the strangest but still very reliable means that he'd just been left unemployed.


	4. Third Time's a Charm!

**Chapter IV: Third Time's a Charm!**

The next day was one of much awkwardness and general gloom between Troy and Ryan. Obviously, after he was told that he was to be fired from his job up in New York, Troy Bolton was devastated, but he couldn't do anything about it, or even talk to someone: when Mr. Vanderfeller arrived, he offered to take Ryan along with him and Miss Lavinia to the soirée, and of course Ryan couldn't refuse and stay there with Troy –they were already playing against pretty tough odds in hoping there wasn't a rumour about something going on between them-, so he went along with the couple maid to the party where his parents were already present and would be sure to find him.

The night was one of uneasy sleep, and on the next morning, the two lovers didn't have time to discuss anything; in fact, they had to pretend they knew nothing because Troy was very busy trying to at least keep this summer job. God knew how much both of them wanted to be together comfort each other, but they never found the time, and only thing that got through was a general heavy mood in the Evans house, which as Mr. Evans pointedly remarked:

"Even passed over to the servants!"

Yet, on the morning _after _that, Ryan, despite not having gone to sleep particularly early, found himself tossing around in his sheets by cockcrow, and finally decided that it was about time to get up even though the sun had only barely risen.

Seeing as nobody else in his house was up yet, Ryan put on some clothes, and walked outside, hoping a nice long walk would take his mind off his problems.

Before his feet lay the white sand of the Maine Beach leading up to the billowy Atlantic, and the great ocean gaily reflected the dawning sun's young rays: it was that beautiful time of a summer day when the sun is pretty much up in the sky, and yet it hasn't yet managed to chase away the coolness of the night or to dry off the dewdrops of the rosy-fingered dawn, so that the whole world is filled by a bright but soft and tender sunlight.

Of course, Ryan only just had the time to notice all of this before he saw that he was not alone; for sitting next to the beach was that familiar figure of all his amorous wishes: Troy Bolton.

But this time, the servant-boy didn't greet him; this time, there was no jolly salutation or boyish "hello" enticing him to come sit next to him; apparently, Troy was just sitting gazing at the sea, and hadn't even noticed his lover coming out of the house.

"Troy," said Ryan, coming up "Hey… Troy."

Troy turned around and looked at him:

"Oh," he said, trying to smile "Hey… Nice morning, isn't it?"

But the smile was transparently fake; Troy was wallowing in the deepest depths of sadness: his voice was sombre, and his eyes no longer sparkled with that charming childlike gleam Ryan was so used to.

"Come now, Troy," said Ryan putting his hand on his shoulder "Don't you worry yourself; I'll have my father write you the best recommendations. You'll find something in no time."

Troy didn't answer.

"For God's sake," Ryan continued "It's the Gilded Age… how hard can it be to get a job?"

"You have no idea, Ryan," said Troy.

"Oh, what… a week? Two weeks?" said Ryan, "You've got a month with us to find another one…"

"I went to work at that house with very good recommendations!" Troy exclaimed "It was a stable job, with food and lodgings, and a nice salary I didn't even need to spend any of my money. And now that the word's going to get out that they fired me, with the scores of people you can pick up off the street, like hell anyone's going to hire _me_ again."

"Well, a rumour is a hard thing to stop…" Ryan muttered.  
"But heck!" cried Troy "Heck, just forget that happened… Just imagine I don't need to work, I can just go back to my family's house. What will I tell my dad? What will I tell my mom? Sure they can maintain me, but there's only so many hands we can use down on the farm… and I know deep down I'll be a dead weight. They save up money, they send me off North to the big city with their best wishes and hopes, and I go and get fired. And I've got no-one, no-one but myself to blame!"

"Come on," said Ryan "Come on, you won't die of hunger… And worst case scenario, I'm sure you could get your parents to take you back!"

"No I can't!"said Troy "No I can't! And even if I could, I shouldn't… You don't know what it is, Ryan. You don't know what it is to earn money…"

"Hey, I…"

"No you don't Ryan," Troy said, almost harshly "No you don't… That theatre company you have may make more in a night than what I make in a year, but that doesn't mean a thing. You don't need that money… You're a nice guy, the best I've ever met, am I'm sure you do a better job at keeping the theatre than I do at, well, waiting on people, but we both know that your dad just gave you those stocks to play with. Even if you fail at everything you do, to you rich people it's just like a game. You won't have to keep the same clothes for longer because your profits went down; you won't have to make do with smaller meals if one of your shows flops. Even if you loose all your money, even if you burn it all on cards or drink, you won't ever have to see one of your little brothers having to loose school hours to work and know deep down that it's all your fault."

Ryan almost started speaking quite a few times, each time trying to think up answers to Troy's little monologue, but none of them seemed right, and none of them felt right; because deep down, he knew that what Troy had said was true. So he hugged Troy as tight as he could, posing his head right next to that sweet tanned cheek and said:

"You're right, Troy; you're right. I don't know what it's like. I don't know what you're going through, and I quite probably wouldn't survive a day in your situation. But I do know one thing, Troy. I love you; I love you and I can't stand to see you sad. And even if I'm a blundering upper-class twit, you know I'll do anything, anything within my power to help you."

Troy turned around and looked him in the eyes.

"I love you, Troy," said Ryan "And I won't hide that I feel a bit guilty for what happened to you. But I also hope you know that no matter what comes your way, it'll also come my way, and that I'll always be by your side. I mean, if worse comes to worse, we can always…"

But Troy interrupted.

"Ryan," said Troy "Please stop talking. You shouldn't feel guilty for anything: I'm just glad I have you!"

And he kissed him with so much passion, that it really seemed he didn't care. Then, they parted, and just looked each other in the eyes; only their hands touched each other, and the two seemed so together you would have thought they were a medieval glasswork.

On the evening of the same day, there was a very important event for the vacationing good society: that night, none other than Mr. Rockefeller himself was holding a party on his yacht, and of course, everyone who was someone was invited. It was all very nice, what with the string quartet, and the buffet, and the lights sparkling on the water of the, well, harbour of Bar Harbour. As the reader may imagine, the Evans family was there, and Mr. and Misses Evans, not to mention their daughter Sharpay were very careful that every single person knew they had gotten themselves a new servant.

Yet their son Ryan Evans shone by his absence; for while all the socialite business was going on up on deck, he was downstairs in one of the corridors with the aforementioned servant, which he'd inconspicuously smuggled aboard and was currently engaged in feeding lobster too. The pair was both lit only by the moonlight that shone through the porthole. Troy Bolton, for his part, had never eaten lobster before, so he thought very genteel of Ryan to offer it to him.

"Well," said Troy swallowing "I still think it's a very little meat for a thing of that size, it's just luxury shrimp.. Not to mention that at those prices…"

"Oh, come on, Troy," said Ryan "Who else in your situation wouldn't be happy to eat lobster?"

And they both giggled like little boys; yes, those giggle too.

Yet what happened then was no giggling matter, for the door opened. And before they could pull away from each other and start looking as manly as they could in came who else but gentle Miss Darbus, the well-known fiancée of Mr. Vanderfeller.

Ryan and Troy froze in place.

"Mr. Evans!" exclaimed Miss Darbus "We've been looking for you everywhere… what on Earth are you doing down here?"

"Miss Darbus, I…"

"It's not what you…"

"Oh!" said Miss Darbus, upon seeing Troy "You're here too! What a coincidence."

"_Great_," thought Ryan "_She hadn't even noticed him…_"

Then, there was a gleam in Miss Darbus' eye.

"It is very strange, is it not, that I always find you two together?" the lady remarked.

Ryan then proceeded to begin blurting out stuff as fast as he possibly could; and, from the sound if it, as incongruently and slanderously to himself as he could.

"Well yes… that is to say, no… that is to say… Oh, Miss Darbus, I know what you're thinking, and this is _not _what it looks like…"

"What is looks like?" said Miss Darbus quizzically "I don't understand… what do you mean, what it looks like?

"Well, you know…"

And here it hit Miss Darbus, and her eyes opened wide:

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed upon realising what Ryan meant, and she began putting two and two together, thinking what Ryan had been thinking she was thinking the whole time.

"No!" exclaimed Ryan "No, it's nothing like that! It's not…"

"By God!" said Miss Darbus "You two are…"

"Oh miss Darbus, no!"

"Of course!" Miss Darbus cried "Of course, it all adds up… you were outside at the ball, you were together on the beach, you're down here feeding him. My God! You even managed to convince your parents to get Bolton as a servant just so you could tug him along and continue your disgusting activities here!"

"But Miss Darbus…"

"I shall…"

"Miss Darbus, please!"

The scene was very excited. Miss Darbus was on a roll of worthy indignation, Ryan was on the verge of tears begging her to stop, thinking of the scandal this would cause if she told anyone, and Troy was… well, in point of fact, Troy had been standing silently for some time now, which made the other two more or less instantly shut up when he began to speak:

"Miss Darbus," said Troy "You win. I'm going to tell you the truth."

"What?"

"I'll confess everything," said Troy, in a dead serious look.

At this, Miss Darbus was amazed; and Ryan's blood froze.


	5. Two Birds with One Stone

**Chapter V: Two Birds with One Stone**

"The truth?" asked Miss Darbus, still somewhat shocked that he'd spoken "What truth?"

"Oh," said Ryan desperately "Oh no! Troy, don't…"

"You leave me no choice, Miss Darbus," said Troy, "I would have kept it secret, but my best friend Ryan Evans' reputation is at stake, and so you leave me no choice."

"What do you mean?" asked Miss Darbus.

"Miss Darbus," said Troy taking the most dramatic pose he could possibly fathom "The truth is, I love you!"

"What?" exclaimed Miss Darbus, in shock.

"What?" cried out Ryan, in even more shock.

This was very distressing:

"I'm telling you," Troy continued, looking as lovelorn as possible "I'm telling you, Lavinia Darbus that I'm in love with you!"

Ryan couldn't believe his ears what was going on. Miss Darbus, for her part, seemed like she was about to faint:  
"But this is…" she began.

"What?" said Troy, lying through his teeth "Does it come as a surprise? Why do you think I was outside that day at the ball? I had begged my friend Ryan to teach me to dance so that I could ask you to dance… I never did because, being as I was a servant boy, I never mustered up the courage… Why do you think I found a job, again begging my friend Ryan for it, here at Bar Harbour? So I could be closer to you. You see? It's all because I love you Miss Darbus, I love you, and I don't care if you're engaged to Mr. Vanderfeller! And Ryan only tried to help me make that impossible love true…"

"But what about today… and what about…"

"Oh, that's nothing," said Troy "I just… well, I just like lobster."

Miss Darbus was speechless, and Ryan was, if possible, even more speechless than her as he listened to Troy lie his way out of any charges Lavinia –that was Ms. Darbus' first name could have pressed.

"Master Bolton, I… I don't know what to say, I... I never…"

"Don't say anything, Lavinia," said Troy, looking at the moon "I know it can never happen. I just wanted you to know it."

His rendition couldn't get more clichéd than this. But, from the looks of it, Miss Darbus was buying it.  
"Oh, Troy," she said "Oh Troy, I'm so sorry, but, I… it can't be! I love Parnassus."

Parnassus was Mr. Vanderfeller's first name; and Quentin his middle name, if that is of any interest.

"I know," said Troy "I know. Now go, go and make him the happiest man on the earth, and be the happiest woman on earth; you deserve it."

"Oh Troy," said Miss Darbus "I'm so sorry… I really am… I just… I… I'll intercede so that you get your job back. It… It's the least I can do."

"Thank you," said Troy with feigned bitterness "Thank you… I will think of you for every penny I get!"

"Oh, Troy…" said Miss Darbus.

But she could not find anything to say, and so she turned to leave. Then, she gave one last glance at Troy, and exited the room. Ryan was staring at the servant boy, now with his jaw gaping open in disbelief. Troy turned to him; and then, he smiled a devilish grin.

"How was that for a show?" said he, cheerily.

"What _was_ that, Troy?" said Ryan.

"Oh, nothing," said Troy "I just saved your reputation and got my job back; two birds with one stone… not to mention gave that poor old lady a good ego boosting. I knew she'd believe it, she loves the theatre... I think it was worth a few lies!"

"Troy, you conniving, double-faced knave!" Ryan exclaimed.

"I know, right?" said Troy "But you still love me, don't you?"

"Yeah," said Ryan "Yeah, I do."

Then Troy turned around; and he hugged Ryan, and leaned in. And by the light of the silvery moon shining through the porthole they shared perhaps their safest, most reassured kiss yet.

After that, the reader can rest assured that Lavinia Darbus never bothered them, and that, furthermore, Troy was promptly re-employed on his return to New York after what good society learned was an unusually passionate intercession on part of the future Misses Vanderfeller.

Yet Troy and Ryan were not nearly out of their indentures yet. For, around the time when they were having breakfast, a telegraph arrived to the Evans residence, which Mr. Evans with great pleasure read out loud to his family:

_Dear Mister Evans_

_It has been represented to me that my current affairs in the Northern territories of our glorious Empire are in full bloom. Therefore, I see no reason why I should tarry here any longer, seeing additionally that the climate isn't exactly a Caribbean summer, and it would please me greatly to spend the last days of my aestival leave in the Americas in some warmer climate; to that effect, I should like to take advantage of your hospitality and remind you of the offer your daughter made me: Mr. Evans, I will be with you, save immediate objection on your part, within three days._

_Furthermore, I have reason yet more reason to be there for, I need not say, we must personally discuss with you and your charming daughter affairs of a much more tender and sentimental substance which you will understand are unfit for a telegraph._

_Cordially_

_The Earl of Mountararat _

"Oh my God!" cried Sharpay "A tender and sentimental substance…Oh my God! He likes me! Oh my God! Oh my…"

And she fainted from the sheer emotion of it all. The reader needn't worry him or herself, they brought her back fast enough, and she was very happy; yet little did she know that someone else's tender and sentimental affairs were to be greatly disturbed by the arrival of the Earl.


	6. Lovers Pledged and Secrets Uncovered

**Chapter VI: Lovers Pledged and Secrets Uncovered**

That afternoon, Troy got the day off. Even after the trauma of almost loosing his job he was still sort of a slacker when things were not that important. He was a servant, though, so with the work he usually got, you can't exactly blame him; and besides, his masters were so ecstatic at the incoming arrival of the Earl of Mountararat that it would have been strange not to ask him for some sort of bonus. Yet Troy didn't go to spend it in some sleazy bar as servant boys were wont to back in that age –of course, sleazy back then would probably translate out to four-star nowadays, but that's another story- but instead, while he was doing some servant business, he left a little letter on Ryan's pillow.

This of course, led to Ryan finding said letter on his pillow:

_"Meet me on Eden Street" _it read, and Ryan's heart jolted a bit.

Coincidentally, was also a little heart painted on the backside of the paper. Ryan didn't know what this was supposed to mean, but he sure wanted to find out now, and was off to Eden Street in no time. Sharpay looked at him a bit weird as he left, but Ryan didn't pay much heed to that.

Now, for those of the readers who aren't familiar with the geography of Bar Harbour and Mount Desert island, whereupon Bar Harbour was founded –and the writer assumes this accounts for the vast majority- Eden Street goes along a large part of the coastal area, so obviously it wasn't very hard for Ryan to find it. What he didn't expect, however, was _what _he found there.

For parked on the side of the road was an elegant, black, open-top fully manned two horse carriage; and, what's even more important, standing in front of it was master Troy Bolton, in full white-tie evening dress, no less. He was even carrying a cane. It wasn't a very good cane, but it was, nonetheless, a cane!

"Troy, what are you…"`

But he didn't have time to continue because Troy interrupted him.

"Ah! Mr. Evans!" said Troy, in the most aristocratic voice he could muster "It's a pleasure to have you here. Welcome to Troy Bolton's magical tour of Acadia National park. Please, step aboard, only one passenger, and the journey can commence!"

"Oh my God, this…"

"Do not speak, Master Ryan. Just hop aboard! Tuppence a person, but for you it's for free!"

"How did you even pay for this?" Ryan whispered, climbing onto the carriage.

"Same money your dad paid for me," said Troy, helping him on.

"Oh, okay," said Ryan, sitting down; the chair was pretty comfortable "Wait, what?"

"Don't worry," said Troy climbing in next to him "It was worth it, you'll see…`

And he put his hand on Ryan's, discreetly though so that the driver might not observe them; then he ordered:

"Cabby! Take me to Mount Desert!"

"Mount Desert?" asked Ryan.

"Yeah," said Troy "I did some research… It's really close to where we live, and it's got the best scenic views."

"You read a brochure, didn't you?"

"So what if I did? But enough of that. Driver! Off we go!"

The driver turned around:

"You know, Bolton, you really don't have to pretend like you're far above me; we know each other."

"Hey, am I paying you, or not?" said Troy "Because this is America… that's how status works were."

The driver rolled his eyes, turned back forward, whipped the horses, and they were off; then Ryan whispered something in Troy's ear.

"You couldn't pass for an aristocrat if your life depended on it…"

Troy looked at him:

"Oh shut up!" he said

"No, you shut up!" said Ryan.

Then, Troy playfully punched him; and they pretty much occupied themselves at that until they got to a little road that led up the foothills –by the way, the whole place is today a national Park, and a very pretty one at that.

"Sir," said the driver, with a not at all subtle irony "We have arrived!"

"Excellent," said Troy "You may be off now!"

And he winked at him, and the driver was, in fact, off. Then, Ryan and Troy were left alone, on the little path, with the rock coast in front of them, and the little road leading through the thick verdant forest behind them; and Ryan asked the most obvious question he could have.

"Now that we're here," he said in a very matter-of-fact fashion "I should like to have some idea of what's going on!"

Then, Troy looked him in the eye and took that serious voice he knew would make Ryan's heart melt:

"Ryan," said Troy "I love you. And I want to take my very special boy to a very special place."

Then he leaned in and whispered into Ryan's ear:

"Besides, it's about time we go somewhere we won't be interrupted. Now come on, follow me!"

"Oh, Troy," said Ryan "This place is beautiful…"

"It is, isn't it?" said Troy "And it gets better as we go."

"I still don't get it…" said Ryan.

"Is it such a crime to want to go on a walk with my lover?" said Troy.

And then, he took Ryan's arm, and, arm in arm like a true pair of Victorian lovers, they walked down the little pebble road up the foothills of the mountain. They went along, in the cool shade of the lush, verdant pine and spruce trees, talking about everything and anything, from life and love to the latest Gilbert and Sullivan Opera, interrupted only by the occasional breeze rustling through the trees, or the sound of some little woodland critter scurrying off into the night. And when something would sound a bit too loud, or the wind would blow a bit too hard, Troy would just hold Ryan's arm tighter.

"You don't feel cold, by any chance, do you?"

"With you around, I could walk to the North Pole and back and not notice it."

Then, Troy would peck a cheek on Ryan's mouth, and they'd move along.

"I'd pick you a flower, but they're not in season," Ryan would say.

"With you around?" said Troy "What's the need?"

And they kissed again.

"Do you even know where we're going?" asked Ryan "I've never gotten so far into the woods…"

"I… I have a faint idea…"

"You've never been here, have you?"

"No, I haven't… I told you, if we were down South in Dixie, this would be a lot easier…"

"You cute little explorer wannabe…"

"Oh, hush, Ryan," said Troy "Here we are! Fawn pond!"

But Ryan didn't need Troy to hush him; Mother Nature, dazzling the boy with her beauty, did that quite competently already.

Before them was probably one of the most beautiful lakes Ryan had ever seen. Fawn Pond was a clear, immobile, pristine body of water. It was so close to the world, yet so far at the same time; Just a few miles away, there were the summer mansions of the Vanderbilts and the Rockfellers, and yet here you could see, playfully trembling atop the limpid surface of the water, the reflections of the same centennial trees the old Indians would have seen when hunting for the famed fawns in the pond's name. It was all so nice, one might expect a Dryad to pop up at any moment.

"Nice, ain't it?" Troy asked "I knew it was worth it!"

"Oh yes," said Ryan, almost breathless "Oh yes it is. Who told you about this place?"

"Well, I told you!" said Troy "I read it in one of those brochures your father makes me throw away. Terribly informative, don't you know!"

Ryan looked at him:

"I love you, did you know that?"

Troy just kissed him; there was a lot of kissing going on that day. But when he pulled away, he seemed very serious:

"Troy… what's…"

But Troy interrupted him; and in an imposing, manly tone said to him:

"Ryan: I love you. I've already told you this, so, I'm not going to be very lyrical about it –I couldn't, anyhow,- but I love you. And I want you to have this" –here he put his hand in his pocket- "It's not much, it's probably not even worth have the price of the lodgings your family affords me for a day, but… It's all my savings, and I hope you like it."

And with that, he presented Ryan with a little pocket watch. It was pretty small, but Ryan could see that it was at least in part coated in real silver that slightly sparkled in the nice sunlight.

"Oh, Troy, I…"

"Shush," said Troy "Open it."

Ryan pressed the little button on top, and sure enough, the watch opened up. And inside, engraved by hand, were, intertwined in a beautiful cursive monogram the letters "T" and "R".

"Keep this," said Troy "Keep it so you can remember our love. I can't pass you a wedding ring, because we haven't got a preacher… But I can give you this as the next best thing."

"Oh, Troy... You shouldn't have… Now what am I supposed to do…"

"You did enough by being born into this world, Ryan," said Troy.

"But it's a present and I…"

"You couldn't be bought for all the gold in Peru!"

Then, Troy kissed him. Only this time, it wasn't a small peck on the mouth. It was a long, watery, passionate French kiss like the two boys hadn't shared in a long time. Ryan wanted to pull away to say something, but Troy didn't let him. He wrapped his arms around the blonde boy's waist, and kissed him harder. Ryan tried to talk twice, but Troy's tongue lovingly probing his mouth, keeping him down with a firm but gentle strength of a male in love, prevented him from doing so. So Ryan put his arms around Troy's shoulders and surrendered.

Then, he didn't know how, Ryan felt something feral in Troy's kiss.

And Troy finally pulled away; and he spoke to Ryan with a voice that had in it a trace of wildness Ryan had only once observed: the day they were bathing together.

"Ryan," Troy panted "Ryan, I love you!"

Ryan would have answered, but just then, he heard rustling in the leaves…

"Oh my God," Troy shouted out, clearly in a rage "If it's that Darbus woman again, I swear to God I'll…"

But, praise the Lord, it was only a little fawn; and, bedazzled by the sight, Ryan and Troy just looked at it for a moment, without parting from each other's embrace. And suddenly all the innocence of the scene just came back to them, and they stopped kissing and just held hands. And they were just like two little children in love all over again. This wasn't the socialite Ryan or the world-weary Troy now; it was just two little boys who didn't know what kissing was, who didn't even know what love was, but who's hearts were just happy as their hands touched each other.

On their way home, nothing really eventful happened. They didn't even talk that much: they just looked at each other in blissful contentment.

However, when Ryan entered his house –alone, Troy had gone out, he still had the rest of the evening off- he was confronted by Sharpay; and she had something to say that would turn his day, nay more, his whole world, upside down.

"Ryan," she said "I know everything!"

"What?"

"I know about you and Troy," Sharpay continued in a rage "And I won't let this go on!"

And right there Ryan's heart almost stopped.


	7. Duty

_A.N. This is the penultimate chapter; thank you to the readers for reading this far, and to the reviewers for reviewing._

**Chapter VII: Duty**

Ryan was, of course, flabbergasted at his sister's declaration. Truth be told, he knew she wasn't dumb, and he'd had an inkling that she'd probably been suspecting something, but certainly not to this extent. Needless to say, his reaction was one vehement denial on the outside, though on the inside his blood froze with fright.

"What are you talking about, Sharpay?" he exclaimed.

"You know very well what I'm talking about," said Sharpay.

"What do you mean?" said Ryan "Me and Troy? Together? That's crazy, not to mention disgusting…"

"Crazy?" said Sharpay "Yeah, right: like hell it's crazy… You don't know who you're dealing with, Ryan! I followed you down to Eden Street for one thing, and I interrogated the driver after you came back."

"The driver?"

"Oh, don't worry, he doesn't know anything; he's too dumb to live, like most people here… But seriously Ryan? You thought I was that dumb? And I saw the note, Ryan. I mean, of course, it all adds up: the insistence on hiring him, the times you had a "slight cold" and stayed home… Did you really think no-one would catch on?"

"Well someone did, but…"

"Aha! Then it's true!"

"What? No, I…"

"It is, Ryan," Sharpay cried "It is, and you know it!"

Then, Ryan went on the offensive, and took probably one of his firmest stances he'd ever taken; he seldom used any authority against anyone but the sheer terror of dealing with a discovery of his relationship with Troy, and in absence of Troy at that, was just overwhelming.

"Sharpay," he shouted angrily "I'm your brother; I command you to never speak of this again. Now leave me alone!"

And he stormed off, a lot more frightened though than truly angry Ryan couldn't believe this was happening to him. He felt his stomach tie up in a knot, and he felt himself go red with shame. What would he do? How was he supposed to react to this? He went looking for Troy; Troy would know what to do; he'd dealt with Miss Darbus after all, hadn't he? But as his father reminded him when he asked were Troy was:

"He took the day off, don't you remember?"

Well, at least Sharpay hadn't told his father; that was decent of her.

"By the way," his mother interjected "You should get ready, we'll go out to eat in less than a half hour."

"Yes, mother," said Ryan, but he really wasn't listening; then Sharpay entered:

"Don't worry, mother," she said darkly "You can start without us, we'll follow you, we know where you're going."

And for a moment there was some tension, even if it was silent; but of course, Ryan thought, he wouldn't get off the hook so easily. And indeed as soon as their parents were out of the room, Sharpay picked up the battle right where they'd left off.

"Ryan," she said "Ryan, it's scandalous! You can't do this: you have to break up with him this instant!"

"But I…"

"Ryan, don't play possum with me. Mom and dad might be idiots, but I know what's going on…"

"Sharpay, I told you…"

"How long have you been at this?"

Then Ryan couldn't take it anymore; and cracking under the pressure, he confessed.

"I met him at the start of the summer, if you want to know so badly."

"The start of the summer? Oh my God… this is… Cut him off; cut him off immediately you have absolutely no right…"

"No, _you _have no right, Sharpay," Ryan cried "So what if Troy is my lover? So what if I like him? You have no say in this… No say whatsoever! I can love whomever I please."

"Ryan," said Sharpay, "Ryan this isn't a game… If you did weird stuff with classmates back in High School, or you occasionally ran away with a good friend, I really wouldn't care. But your servant? And on a regular basis? What would our parents say? What would society say? What would people say?"

Ryan here cringed for a moment:

"What would the world say Ryan? What would the world say if they knew you were up to…this?"

She'd cornered him now; he was on the defensive, but, breaking free, he lashed out at her.

"I don't care!" cried Ryan "I don't care what the world says! I love him! I love him, and there's nothing you can do about it… So you can stick your prejudices where you like!"

"Ryan," said Sharpay "This isn't a romance novel… this is real life. Do you really think I personally have a problem with you doing girls, or boys, or dogs or whatnot? But this is not the place not to care… The Earl is coming over tomorrow… This is my best chance to get married. But do you think a Peer of England will really marry into a family that has... _this _in it? Do you think anyone will want to marry me if this gets spread?"

"If he loves you he'll marry you!"

"Ryan, he's an Earl… he outranks love!"

"Sharpay, you'll never be happy with a man that would break up with you because your brother likes men."

"Oh, don't be so wishy-washy, Ryan…" said Sharpay "I'll get to know him, I'll get to fall in love; how did _you _fall in love with your guy? But that'll never happen if he gets scared away by your… your… your antics!"

"Sharpay, I…"

"Silence Ryan," said Sharpay "This is an ultimatum… either you break up with Troy and get him fired, or I'm telling our parents! You have two hours to decide…"

"I'll never break up with him!"

"Two hours."

Then, Sharpay turned around and started to leave; but Ryan interrupted her.

"Hey, sister…" he said in a tone much more sober but also darker than before.

"Yes?"

"Tell mom I won't be going out to dinner; I'm not hungry today."

"That's very good. Then you have until I come back."

Then, Sharpay turned around again, and left Ryan dumbfounded.

Two hours later, Ryan was still as much at a loss as he had been before. He still didn't quite understand since when Sharpay had come to her conclusions, and his anxiety hadn't died down one bit. How could she do that to him? His own sister? What was he supposed to do? If Sharpay went through with her threats, his life would be ruined. Sure, his parents were pretty liberal for the time, and they'd probably still love him, but… Nothing would be the same again. He'd barely be their son. There tenderness would be forced, their love would be reticent… He knew this would happen: he'd break their hearts. If his sister was capable of blackmail like that, ignoring this would be the clement reaction on their part.

Of course, he might just get disinherited; he didn't really know _how _liberal his parents were were...

And then again, there was no doubting, Sharpay's marriage really would be ruined if it were known; and if his "antics", as she called them, didn't give his parents heart attack, that certainly would.

It was his duty to break up with Troy.

But he couldn't leave Troy! He wouldn't leave Troy. He loved Troy, and Troy loved him even more, if that was possible. He'd been so tender, he'd been so kind… And he'd abandon him to please the social aspirations of what, a blackmailing sister? But if he didn't the shame would be too much to bare…

Ryan grasped in his hands the watch his lover had given him.

He'd just have to break it to pieces along with his love

He passed his fingers over the engraved T and R, and fought to hold back his tears thinking of all the innocent love Troy had given him; and he'd pay back all that tender love with betrayal! Ryan was in a lose-lose situation, stuck between Scylla and Charybdis.

Just the he heard a door open downstairs. And then he heard, sure enough, the sounds of his sister and his parents coming in. His heart trembled… Why did it have to be so hard? Why couldn't he just love? Why was life so unfair? Sharpay could love, and she threw it away for the Earl… And he, he who wanted nothing more than to be happy with his servant boy, who aspired to nothing more than a nice, cozy romance that wouldn't hurt a soul, had to give it all up or face shame for the rest of his life! Why did they have to make him choose?

Well, no! He wouldn't have it! He'd be with Troy, he'd elope if they had to; he had the money, they'd sell his half of the theatre company, and Sharpay could just do with her Earl what she damn well pleased. He was going to be with his boyfriend, and he was going to take revenge on her. If they didn't want him, it was their problem!  
Ryan firmly held Troy's locket.

Then, the door of his room opened. It was his sister; Ryan plucked up all his courage.

"Sharpay," he declared "I…"

But he didn't continue. For his sister stopped him. Not by shouting, or screaming, or threatening, but with a weapon much stronger: Sharpay, against all expectations spoke to Ryan calmly, in a submissive, regretting, sisterly tone, and simply said:

"No, Ryan… It's okay… I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry I said those things to you," said Sharpay "I'd never tell our parents. I'd never force you to do anything; you're my brother, and I love you, no matter what you... even if you are a… a… well, you know."

She hugged him. Ryan was now taken aback even more than before… and that was something.

"I just… I really wanted to be a Countess…"

Here, she muffled her sob. Ryan hugged her back.

Then, it suddenly struck him; he couldn't break up his sister's marriage!  
And Ryan decided to do his duty and make the responsible decision that would hurt the least people; even if one of those people was him:

"Sharpay," he said "It's okay. Don't cry. I'll break up with Troy."

"What?"

"You heard it, sister," said Ryan "I'm calling it off."

"Oh Ryan!" said Sharpay "Oh, Ryan, I love you!"

That night, Ryan didn't come out of his room; neither did he eat anything. Yet even so, he heard Troy entering the house perfectly.

_"You have to do it, Ryan," _he thought _"You said you'd do it, and you have to do it."_

Troy, of all things, decided to surprise Ryan by coming into his room. He climbed up the stairs, and mock-coyly knocked on the door. Then, he came in, and declared in that fond, impish voice:

"Hey, honey… I'm home!"

But Ryan didn't answer.

"I said honey, I'm home…" Troy repeated.

Yet his beloved still said nothing.

"What's wrong, Ryan?" Troy reiterated.

"Troy, I…" Ryan stuttered; but he got lost in the words. That innocence, that caring, it broke his heart.

"What is it Ryan?" said Troy rushing to him, grabbing his hand "What's going on? You can tell me anything!"

Ryan heard him, but he pushed his hand away.

"Troy," said Ryan "Troy, we have to break up."

"What?"

"We have to break up," said Ryan "I can't do this anymore. I have a reputation, and sister that's about to get married. This is scandalous and I… I think we should separate as fast as we can, before anyone gets hurt."

Now it was Troy's turn to be dumbfounded.

"Go away, Troy," said Ryan; he pulled the watch out of his pocket and presented it to his lover "Here… You can have this back. You can stay and work here till the end of the month, and then we'll arrange for you to go back to your old mistress."

"What are you talking about?"

"Troy, please... There's nothing else to do; we're finished."

Then Troy entered a sort of trance.

"Oh…" he said "Oh… I… okay…"

And he turned around, mystified -he seemed almost too surprised for his heart to have been broken yet- and exited the room.

And Ryan fell onto his bed sobbing.


	8. The Earl and the Wedding

**Chapter VIII: The Earl and the Wedding**

That was it; that was the end of it all. Ryan couldn't believe what he'd done. He'd broken up with Troy. He lay on the bed, crying and just as dazed as his lover had been; he really never thought this would happen. And Troy had taken it very well; even a little too well, at that...

Suddenly, something clicked in Ryan's head; and he jumped up from his sheets, and ran after Troy:

"Troy… Troy, wait, I'm sorry! I… You have to understand… Me… my sister…"

"Hey," said Troy "No worries, boss… It's okay, I understand. I should've known this could never work out."

"But Troy, I…"

"It's okay, Ryan," said Troy "Don't torture yourself."

"It's just that…"

"I understand."

Ryan was at a loss. They'd gone down the flight of stairs, and he was trying to justify something to someone to whom it already seemed justified: even _he_ barely knew what he was doing anymore, but he couldn't let Troy go away like this. It couldn't be real. In fact, Ryan would have felt much better if Troy had confronted him; he would've felt much better if Troy had yelled at him, shouted at him, maybe even hit him once. But he didn't: Troy wouldn't even turn around and look at him…

The were now at the house's front door, Ryan desperately trying to get a reaction out of Troy, and Troy moving along calmly.

"Troy, please…" said Ryan.

"I need to go take a walk, Ryan," said Troy "You can at least grant me that!"

"Yes, but… Troy, just hear me out…"

"Please, Ryan," said Troy, "We'll do this later."

And he opened the front door.

"Oh Troy…" said Ryan.

And then it happened: with the moonlight shining in from behind him, Troy finally turned around and confronted Ryan. And there was so much pain in the servant boy's face that at that moment, Ryan wished he never had turned around:

"What do you want me to say, Ryan?" said Troy, in a bitter, serious tone "What do you want me to do?"

"I… I don't…"

"I know why you're doing this, Ryan," said Troy "But do you want me to pretend it doesn't hurt? Do you want me to pretend I don't care? Do you want me to lash out at you, and make believe I don't love you? Because I love you Ryan; no matter what you do to me, I still love you!"

"Troy," said Ryan "Troy, please… I love you too, I love you with all my heart... But you have to understand, the time, the circumstances… Oh Troy, please understand."

"I understand," said Troy, "I perfectly understand. But that doesn't mean I'm happy about this…"

"Troy, I…"

But Troy ignored Ryan; then, he turned around, and pointed towards the silent, silvery moon:

"Do you see the moon, Ryan?" said Troy "Do you see its rays?"

"Yes," said Ryan.

"Do you remember those rays when we first met?" said Troy "Do you remember the moonlight in the garden? Do you remember the moonlight as we danced the night away, playing like two little boys, coyly discovering our untold feelings for each other?"

"Oh, Troy…"

"And how about the night after?" said Troy "Do you remember that? Do you remember when I came up your balcony and kissed you? Do you remember how happy we were, how happy _you _were, when under this same moonlight we became lovers?"

"Yes, Troy, I remember… But…"

"Then," said Troy "I think it's good that our love might die in the same moonlight it was born in. I'm not as smart as you are, Ryan, but I believed in stability."

"But Troy," said Ryan tearing up "Troy, you have to hear me out: I couldn't do anything! I love you… I love you Troy, I love you with all my heart, I love you, and it hurts so bad…"

"Then we can work something out…"

"Oh no, Troy… Oh no, that's not what I…"

"I thought so; so we've reached an agreement."

Ryan now broke into sobs. This was too much, far too much. He was a weak spirit; he couldn't bare this.

"Troy… Troy, I… I need you…"

He opened his arms to hug his lover, tears rolling down his rosy cheeks; but Troy pushed him away:

"I think you've touched me enough already, Ryan," said Troy "Oh, I'm sorry… I meant Mr. Evans."

And on those last words, for the very first time in his life, Ryan heard his lover's voice breaking; and it was the only time he'd heard Troy so sad, and so angry at the same time.

Then, Troy walked off and lit a cigarette. And as the figure of his lover disappeared into distance, Ryan collapsed under the weight of his own heart, fell onto his knees and continued to sob uncontrollably.

His sister came down the stairs in her white nightgown:

"Oh, Ryan," she said "Oh Ryan, thank you! Thank you so much; you did it!"

And she put her arms around his shoulders to comfort him. But Ryan got up, pushed her away, and locked himself in his room to spend the night in tears.

Just like Troy did.

Next day, the Earl of Mountararat arrived. It was a grand event in Bar Harbour, akin to the yearly arrival of a Rockefeller of a Carnegie, but with the addendum and bonus exoticism that this visitor came with prestige of a thousand-year-old European pedigree. The townspeople gathered at the train station as the Earl came off his highly decorated private car, escorted by a troupe of attendants and a gaggle of high-ranking friends and admirers, each of which could probably buy the entire station at a whim.

The Earl himself was in a very good mood, so much that he looked quite a bit less rachitic than usual; he'd even bought one of those little Canadian fur caps you see woodsmen wear sometimes.

Of course, the very first in line to greet him were, with much pride, the Evans family, who'd all put on their very best clothing, which they'd had ironed and re-ironed a dozen times, with the two ladies of the family wearing their house's worth of jewellery. Sharpay for her part was wearing so much clothes that she was on the verge of fainting.

"Your Excellency!" said Mr. Evans effusively, making a bow he'd spent the last week practicing "Your Excellency, what joy to have you here!"

The Earl smiled; or at any rate came as close to a smile as you can get being a British Earl.

"Ah," he said I a nasal voice "This is very well. I was afraid I'd made you uncomfortable, and that you'd go head over heels to prepare to receive me, thus making me miss out on authentic American summer; but I'm very pleased to see you've come here in your everyday clothes, and haven't lost one bit of your authentic American charm."

Of course, the whole family laughed at the joke.

"We've been invited over to the Pulitzers this afternoon," said Misses Evans "But I think we should first go home and have you rest a bit, don't you?"

"Oh yes," said the Earl "Most certainly. Also, if it's not too much to ask, have your cook prepare something for me; nothing excessive but that train food was… ugh. My mother told me I should travel with my cook…"

And he went on, as they walked away from the station. He saluted a few of the most important personalities in town, but mostly kept with the Evans family, who was more than happy to oblige and entertain him with an avalanche of flattering chatter. Obviously, they'd rented the very best carriage in town for the occasion, which the Earl described as, "absolutely beautiful, something of the Wild West," remark at which everyone was thoroughly delighted.

The only one that didn't talk as eagerly was Ryan. He was, understandably, in a foul mood: everyone was so happy, Sharpay was getting an Earl, and he couldn't even have a simple servant boy…

When they got home, "a beautiful place, like a house on the prairie", the quintet was seated at the table. And Ryan's heart froze as he remembered Troy would be waiting on them.

Troy hadn't left, of course; he was far too honourable to ditch his employers on such an occasion, and he knew what an important thing a young girl's wedding was. Yet right now, his goodness seemed to Ryan just another form of torture.

"I do hope you've had tea boiled," said the Earl "I would _hate _it if you hadn't had tea boiled!" said the Earl.

"Why most certainly, your Excellency," said Mr. Evans "Earl Grey."

"My favourite…"

"…"

This was where the tea was supposed to come in.

"Troy!" barked Sharpay "The tea!"

At this, Troy entered the room; and Ryan shuddered.

"Certainly, Madam," said Troy in a cold, bitter voice; but though he was turned in her direction, his eyes were pinned on Ryan "You speak and I obey."

The servant-boy bowed and exited the room backwards; Ryan, for his part, almost fainted. He could see Troy's broken heart through his rough, angry exterior; he could see the sadness in his eyes. And it was for that Earl that he'd broken it…

During the whole tea party, his Excellency regaled the family with stories of Canada, which they all found absolutely fascinating. The only one who didn't even touch his plate or teacup was of course, Ryan, who would only pine away in silence and feel his heart break a bit more every time Troy entered the room.

And Troy's looks would make him feel even more miserable than he already was.

"And now," said the Earl of Mountararat at last, sipping the last of the tea from his cup "I should like to speak to you all on a tender and sentimental matter."

At this, all the Evans family silenced, and Sharpay could even have been noticed trembling with excitement. Mr. Evans spoke for the whole family.

"Yes, your Excellency?" he said, anxiously. It was visible he was fighting to contain his anticipation. What would the Earl ask them? Would he prolong his visit? Would he invite one of them over to England?

"Mr. Evans," said the Earl dryly "And Misses Evans. Oh, and naturally you, Miss S…"

"Sharpay."

"Yes, that," said the Earl, himself getting a bit anxious "Anyhow: it's very simple… that is to say, it's rather complicated. I… I… Oh, this is very distressing…"

"Yes?"

"Yes?"

"Yes?"

This was all the Evans family in turn, except Ryan.

"I'll explain in two words," the Earl finally blurted out "I propose to marry your daughter. Here, in this house, I would like to ask you Mister Evans, you, Misses Evans, for your lovely girl as my wife; I would be much obliged to have the permission of you, Mr. Evans junior to take your lovely sister, and of course, I cannot but ask the lady herself that she grant me her hand so that we may be united before God in Holy Matrimony."

There was a brief moment of silence; then, Mr. Evans came to his senses.

"Your Excellency," he said, thoroughly goshbustified "Your Excellency, we accept!"

"Oh," said Sharpay "Oh, your Excellency, I… I do!

And she fainted of joy; the Earl was a bit agitated:

"Is she… is she quite alright?" he asked getting up.

"Oh, yes, yes of course," her mother was quick to reassure him "Don't pay attention it, it's the excitement."

It really was nothing, too; back then girls fainted at the drop of a hat.

"Good," said the Earl "Then it is agreed? I am to marry her?"

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Evans "Of course!"

"Excellent!" said the Earl "I thank you from the depths of my heart; I've been smitten by her. I've wanted an American wife, it would help me when investing across the continent, yet I'd never found anyone quite snobbish enough. Now, obviously we'll have to discuss the technicalities: the location, the transport, the visits, and of course the dowry, and probably quite a few more things as well; but I think on the whole everything is quite correct!"

"Oh certainly, your Excellency," said Mr. Evans "Most certainly."

Ryan hadn't spoken during the whole time; but now that the bargain had been sealed, he was about to go mad. So much love, so much happiness, so much goodwill, and he was just going to sit down and suffer? And more importantly, he was going to let Troy suffer? Troy? Troy, the one person who'd never asked him, directly or indirectly, for anything save his love? Troy, the one person who'd always wanted him unconditionally, the one person who, even when Ryan had betrayed him, had been faithful and obedient without question, unwavering in his love even if that meant that very love's doom? Troy who had been viciously backstabbed so that Ryan could pat himself on the back that he'd made a sacrifice for his sister?

_"Wow," _Ryan thought then _"Wow… I really am a dastardly, spineless son of a b-h!"_

And he would have none of it; it was time to take things in his own hands.

"Excuse me," he said, getting up "Your Excellency, I'm very happy you can join our family but… I should like to be excused from the table right now. I… I feel slightly unwell."

And without further explanation, Ryan went off towards the kitchen with a firm determination he'd never had in a long time.

"A virus in the family, perhaps?" the Earl dared to mention.

Meanwhile, Ryan burst open he kitchen door; and of course, there was Troy who immediately turned around to look at him:

"Ryan…" said Troy quizzically.

"Troy!" Ryan interrupted imperiously "Troy, I…I want you back… I didn't know what to do, I…"

"Ryan, what…"

Ryan tried, to answer, but voice broke. And he burst into tears:

"I love you, Troy," he said, falling into his arms.

"Ryan, are you…"

"I love you Troy! I love you!"

And Troy understood everything.

And then, without objecting, without fussing, without even talking, the servant-boy took his crying, repentant beloved back. He hugged his little Ryan, rustling the boy's bright blonde hair while the tears flowed down his rosy cheeks, and he whispered into his ears:

"It's okay baby… It's okay… I understand. Don't worry, for your sister… We'll work something out…"

It was clear though that his own voice was breaking with emotion.

Ryan didn't speak. That is to say, he did try to mutter things at intervals, but it was only to have them muffled by sobs as he felt the tears drip down, carrying away all his anxiety and all his fear, as he cried out his very heart, purging his soul of all the pain of this forbidden love. He was in Troy's arms now; he was in his lover's arms again. And right there, he realized nothing mattered, and nothing could hurt him; and before he knew it, his tears of sorrow became tears of happiness.

Then he felt a single tear drip not from but onto him.

And he looked into his lover's face, and saw that he'd gotten teary-eyed as well.

"Troy," said Ryan, smiling "Troy, don't cry… I love you."

"I… I love you too, Ryan," said Troy.

And then they kissed the most passionate, fervent kiss they'd ever kissed in their lives. Their boyish passion had gone through the furnace, but they both felt in this kiss that it had now been forged into a love a thousand times stronger than anything they'd had before.

Yet at that point, the kitchen door opened; and who should come in but Sharpay and the Earl?

Of course, they very clearly saw them kissing; Sharpay's first reaction was a shriek:

"Ryan!" she cried "Ryan, get your tongue out of there!"

"Sharpay?" Ryan asked "What are you…"

"Oh my," said the Earl "This is most distressing… most distressing indeed…"

Now Sharpay from the looks of it, might have pounced at Ryan and gouged his eyes out then and there; Ryan was about to have a heart attack;; and there was no telling what the Earl would do, or even what he was thinking.

But luckily, they were interrupted by that dark, manly tone Troy's voice would take that always seemed to so conveniently solve almost anything.

"Your Excellency," he said "I'll explain in two words."

"Troy," said Ryan, coming to his senses "Troy, no…"

"Oh, Troy, yes," said the Earl "Please do. I am, to say the least, quite surprised."

Troy grinned:

"Don't worry Ryan."

Ryan shut up; he didn't even know what to think by this point. Then Troy turned to the Earl:

"You know how you're in love with Sharpay?"

"Yes…"

"Well," said Troy "I'm in love with her brother. So I say we should both get used to it and start get along, and to that end I would like to introduce myself as your brother-in-law's official lover!"

_"That's it," _Ryan thought _"That's it, he's gone mad…"_

But then again, what could Troy possibly do? The Earl had seen them kissing in person, with his own eyes and monocle. All they could do now was confess, and pray to God for a miracle.

"So you two are…" the Earl began.

"Oh yes," said Ryan.

"As this decade!" said Troy.

Then, Sharpay interjected, and begun to blurt out things trying desperately to accomplish the impossible and cover it all up:

"Your Excellency, no!" she exclaimed "No, don't listen to them… They're just drunk. I… I hope you don't mind, my brother says the darndest things when he's drunk, don't you Ryan? Of course you do… Now, if you don't mind, we'll all forget this incident and move along to our marriage."

And to this, surprisingly enough, the Earl answered the most unexpected thing ever:

"Well of course we will."

Now this left everybody thoroughly flabbergasted:

"What?" said Ryan.

"What you heard, Master Evans," said the Earl "We will leave this incident behind as and move along to my wedding with Miss Sharpay."

"What, you mean you actually believed we were drunk?" said Troy.

"Certainly not," said the Earl of Mountararat "But I don't see why it would be any of my business. I mean, it certainly is surprising, but, my good sirs, I'm an Earl. I'm not a judge or a priest, and whom you kiss or refrain from kissing is none of my business; and even if I were, the goings-on of my bride's brother wouldn't make me love here any less. Now come on, Sharpay, off we go, and let us never talk of this again."

Sharpay was still too dumbfounded to talk She certainly wasn't expecting _this _kind of tolerance…

And then the Earl leaned closer to the two boys and whispered:

"What now, mates?" he said "Do you really think I made it through Eton and Cambridge without experimenting like that even once?"

Ryan and Troy didn't answer, because it made sense, but they didn't want to push their luck.

Then, Mr. and Misses Evans entered the room. Ryan and Troy now really pulled away from each other, because, again, this was all going miraculously well, but one shouldn't tempt the Fates.

"Ryan! Sharpay!" exclaimed Mr. Evans "Are you alright?"

"We heard a shriek from downstairs," said Misses Evans "And we thought, well…"

"Oh, don't mind _that_," said the Earl "We're all perfectly fine. But we really should get down to the wedding planning!"

"That was just what I was about to suggest!" said Mr. Evans.

"Oh yes!" said Sharpay "Oh yes, please, do let's…"

"It _is _a very good idea," said Misses Evans.

And they walked out in a pack, to talk of laces and wedding dress designs, leaving Troy and Ryan once again alone.

Ryan looked at his lover:

"What on Earth was that all about?"

Troy grinned at him:

"I don't have a clue," he said "It just went over my head. But I think it all means we can be together now."

"Yes," said Ryan "Yes… I think it does."

"I love you Ryan."

"I love you too, Troy."

And, kiss.

Within six months, Sharpay and the Earl of Mountararat were wed. The ceremony was held all the way in London, in Saint Paul's Cathedral, with all of Sharpay's family having crossed the Atlantic and all the Count's family having gotten out of their castles for the occasion. There, amongst others, Ryan bought a beautiful golden watch which he gave as a gift to Troy on the eve of his sister's wedding.

"Now they can be like our wedding rings," Ryan had said; and Troy had kissed him.

Sharpay's wedding was a magnificent celebration, with bells ringing, a full choir, and even fireworks. The bride herself was wearing a magnificent silk dress and veil, and the Earl had more decorations on him than a Christmas tree; Misses Evans got all teary eyed, and even Ryan couldn't help but be moved; Mr. Evans, for his part, had insisted –despite repeated offers of the Mountararat family to cover all expenses- on paying half of the wedding, which, along with his daughter's immense dowry, had drained away most of the family's net value. But already the good connections were working, with every stock having an Evans name on it doubling in price the day of the wedding. Not to mention the Earl turned out to be quite a nice guy, and eventually even had his father-in-law made a Baronet.

The reception after the ceremony was held at the Savoy Hotel, and all the food there was so good it might as well have been Queen Victoria's wedding. Yet after the first waltz between the bride and bridegroom, a certain pair of young men was conspicuously absent: one of them was the bride's brother, Ryan Evans. And other, perhaps less conspicuous, was a young manservant who the Evans family had for some reason dragged along. If someone had taken the trouble to look, he would have seen they were nowhere in the hall; and if that someone had taken the time to think, he might have looked in the courtyard afterwards; but luckily, no-one did.

Yet sure enough, when the next waltz started to play, out in the courtyard, dancing in ¾ time, were Troy and Ryan, as amorous as the day they'd first met.

"You're getting good at this," Ryan whispered in Troy's ear.

"I know," said Troy.

And he sneaked a kiss onto Ryan's cheek.

"I love you, Troy," said Ryan.

"I love you, Ryan," said Troy.

And they all lived happily ever after.

**THE END**


End file.
